


you should be smiling

by tosca1390



Category: Psy-Changeling - Nalini Singh
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 20:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1756351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tosca1390/pseuds/tosca1390
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I honestly can’t believe you haven’t met him yet. Bastien? Mercy’s brother?”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Lucy sets a steaming cup of mint tea in front of Lara and sits down at the table next to her, wrinkling her nose. “The one that cooks.”</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>“The one that almost murdered Riley in a dark parking garage,” Lara says with a wry smile. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	you should be smiling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [empressearwig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/empressearwig/gifts).



> Jess, I really hope you enjoy this! I tried to work in as many as your desires as possible.
> 
> Thanks to those who helped in the brainstorming and writing process - you know who you are.

*

“I have a surprise for you.”

Lucy looks up from her desk, eyes narrowed at Lara. “If it’s paperwork, I’m not interested,” she moans. Her eyes are tired from updating individual files in the wake of some overenthusiastic training sessions between the novice and the senior soldiers yesterday. Strained calves, a few broken wrists, a broken nose – nothing very serious, but accurate paperwork is essential to a productive healer. 

Lucy hates paperwork. She’s much more of a hands-on, in-person nurse. But what’s good for the Pack is good for everyone – or at least, that’s what she tells herself to get through long dreary afternoons like this. The simulated light is grey and hazy, a reflection of the late-autumn rain pouring outside the den’s walls. 

Smiling, Lara leans against the doorway to Lucy’s little cubicle, her fox-brown eyes flashing. “Not even close,” she says, voice warm. Her hand rests on the slight curve of her pregnant belly. Five months in and the healer is glowing, having passed through the worst of her pregnancy-related nausea and illness. During her third month, it got to the point when all she could eat was toast and peanut butter and scrambled eggs three times a day, which concerned Walker to the utmost degree. Lucy was tasked with making sure Lara ate every two hours, a hovering that Lara took with a few grumbles. 

Seeing Walker and Lara together, utterly functional and happy even when at odds, reminds Lucy of just how long it’s been since she’s had something similar. A few dates and some decent sex with Kieran some months ago is the last time she’s gone out with a man, and she’s starting to wonder whether there’s anyone out there for her at all. 

_Don’t be dumb_ , she thinks to herself with an internal grimace. She sounds like one of those hapless romance heroines. 

“An invitation to dinner?” she asks Lara with a warm smile. 

Lara rubs her palm over her belly, smile deepening. “Sort of.”

“Uh oh,” Lucy murmurs, setting her files aside. Her wolf perks up, sensing mischief. “What does that mean?”

“I have a man for you,” Lara says, dark eyes gleaming. 

Groaning, Lucy rises from her desk and stretches. “Lara, no – “

“Hear me out!” Lara protests in amusement, tucking her dark curls behind her ears. “He comes highly recommended.”

“By who?” Lucy asks, both woman and wolf suspicious. 

“Mercy. Riley. Sascha. Lucas. Hawke, even,” the healer says, walking out into the main room with Lucy at her heels. “He’s into finance and investments, he’s handsome, and he can cook like nobody’s business.”

Sighing, Lucy smooths a hand over her messy tail of yellow hair, stick-straight and limp from a long day of work. She tugs at her sweater, a faded navy blue today, as she follows Lara through the healing wing towards her large shared quarters. Marlee and Toby are at after-school activities, and Walker still at work; there is time for a cup of tea in privacy with Lara before her family tumbles home. “How have I never met this guy?”

They enter Lara and Walker’s quarters, warm and homey, and make their way to the kitchen. Lara sits at Lucy’s insistence, resting both hands on her belly as Lara moves around the familiar space, gathering cups and filling the tea kettle with water. “He’s not a wolf.”

“Human?” Lucy asks, glancing over her shoulder at Lara. 

Lara hums, smoothing her hands over the dark green wool of her dress. “He’s a member of DarkRiver.”

Blinking, Lucy wets her lips and turns to the stove. Early this year, right after the stabilization of the Net, she went on a date with a senior soldier from DarkRiver, Owen, who was perfectly nice and a good kisser; but they didn’t have much more in common apart from that, and with SnowDancer moving against Ming at last and Lara’s pregnancy, Lucy’s dating life has taken a backseat. There’s something about the cats that intrigues her, that feline litheness and strength; but she hasn’t found one that fully engages the wolf within. 

“I honestly can’t believe you haven’t met him yet. Bastien? Mercy’s brother?”

Lucy sets a steaming cup of mint tea in front of Lara and sits down at the table next to her, wrinkling her nose. “The one that cooks.”

“The one that almost murdered Riley in a dark parking garage,” Lara says with a wry smile. 

“I don’t know,” Lucy murmurs, blowing lightly on her tea. “A blind date?”

“I think you’d like him,” Lara says firmly, in a tone that brooks no argument. Her healer tone, it’s usually reserved for stubborn soldiers, and Hawke. “And you need to get out more. Your wolf is going crazy.”

“Not _crazy_ ,” Lucy mutters, sipping her tea. But the claws rub against the inside of her skin and she feels the tension of unreleased sexual energy in her spine like a coiled spring. She can take care of her own needs, sure; but there’s something about large hands on her body and hot breath against the curve of her neck that she misses. 

Lara fixes an even stare on her, brow furrowing. “You’re taking a lot off my plate right now, and I adore you for it. You’re invaluable to me. But you need to take time for yourself too. Bas in back in the city pretty permanently now, and he’s interested.”

Shifting awkwardly, Lucy sips her tea, buying time. “I’m not good at blind dates,” she says at last. “Frankly, I’m not very good at dating in the first place.” In the heat of the moment and with the health of her fellow packmates on the line, she’s more than capable, can help the younger members with their emotional insecurities; but it keeps her in a certain category, everyone’s nice friendly sister. Every time she tries to let all of herself color a conversation, it seems to backfire. 

Lara reaches out to cover Lucy’s wrist with her hand, a warm touch that settles her wolf as it rubs anxiously against her skin. “You just need a good run of them,” Lara says firmly. “And Bas is a great guy to start with. Riley has nothing but good things to say, and that’s always a nice sign.”

Sighing, Lucy pats Lara’s hand. “Fine. But don’t tell anyone. I don’t want a restaurant full of curious pack members.”

With a beaming grin, Lara nods. “He’s deliciously hot, Lucy. At least you’ll have something nice to look at for a few hours.”

Lucy quirks an eyebrow. “Your hormones are off the charts right now, aren’t they?” 

Cheeks flushed, Lara sighs. “I can’t help it.”

“Walker probably doesn’t mind,” Lucy says with a laugh. 

“Oh, he doesn’t,” Lara says, eyebrows wiggling. 

Lucy sips her tea through her giggles, sitting back and watching as Walker enters their quarters, Marlee and Toby in tow. The family they have forged together is comforting, and lovely; it gives Lucy hope as much as anything else in her life, that she can have that as well. 

Besides, no one – not even her – can be as awkward in courtship as Walker Lauren. Right?

*

Three days later, on a busy Wednesday, Lucy sits down at her desk, to inhale her chicken sandwich before going back out into the fray – when the juveniles have soccer games, shit always goes down – when her comm rings. Heaving a sigh, she answers audio-only. 

“Lucy speaking.”

“Glad I don’t have the wrong number, then.”

Lucy drops her sandwich onto her lap as the low, amused, thoroughly male voice curls through her office. “Um – “

“Riley was supposed to tell you I’d call,” the man says, voice liquid smooth. She suppresses a shiver as her wolf sits up with extreme interest. 

“That doesn’t sound like him,” she says after a moment, color heating her cheeks. 

The man laughs, the sound husky in her ears. Her wolf shivers, rubs up against her skin, wants to roll in the sound. The reaction is visceral, grips her like an iron fist. Even as she gathers the remains of her sandwich, she feels slightly hazy, her tongue thick in her mouth as she listens to him. 

“Well, Riley was supposed to tell Lara who was supposed to tell you. Or so Mercy says. She might have lied to me. It isn’t the first time.”

Lucy’s brain clicks into gear once more, as she hastily reassembles her sandwich. “Bastien.”

“I hope you’re not expecting another man to call.”

She blinks, the possessive tone to his voice startling – and not unwelcome. “I heard Sage is quite the ladies’ man, maybe I’ll hold out for him,” she teases, relaxing back into her chair. 

Bastien laughs. Her wolf likes the sound. “Why don’t I take you out Friday night and let you decide in person?”

Wetting her lips, she picks up a pen and plays with it between her fingers, her cheeks flushing. “I suppose meeting you first before writing you off would be fair.”

“Good. Meet me at the DarkRiver city headquarters around seven?”

“Yes,” she says, anticipation lighting her bloodstream. “I’ll be there.”

“Wear your dancing shoes,” he says, voice low. 

She ends the call, a wide smile lingering on her face. There’s a flush to her face that refuses to fade. The sound of his voice echoes in her mind. 

A not-terrible beginning. 

*

Dancing shoes is a nebulous term, at least in Lucy’s mind. She hasn’t gone dancing in perhaps years, except for the recent mating celebrations - though those don’t truly count. In an effort to combine comfort and sexiness, she borrows a pair of black wedge sandals from Ava, open-toed. She paints her nails a gleaming reddish-purple, pairs the color with a slim black dress with purple accents stitched along the hem and neckline. It’s a newer dress, never before worn on a date night; she likes the way she looks in it, her skin a rosy cream, her hair loose around her face and shoulders. Smooth and straight and pale yellow, but still attractive. 

She drives into the city, parks at the CTX offices, where she knows the car will be safe, and walks to the DarkRiver offices. October is on its way out, the air crisp with the oncoming winter and the leaves nearly all browning. Her thin purple cardigan is too light for the night, but she walks briskly, nerves keeping her warm. For two days, all she has thought of is the sound of Bastien’s voice, the easy way he teased her, how the photographs she received from Mercy via Lara were entirely too attractive and perhaps made him out of her league. It’s the first time in a long time she’s been excited about something other than work or pack news, and she’s willing to embrace it, to take a chance. 

Outside the DarkRiver headquarters, she sees a tall, broad-shouldered man. A black leather jacket lays snug across his shoulders, the collar of a white shirt peeking out at the neck. Dark red hair curls over his neck, his skin bronzed still from a hot summer. He catches her eye and stills, like a panther in the hunt. A slow smile curls his wide mouth, and Lucy can’t breathe for a heartbeat or more. 

“Hi,” she says, stopping in front of him. Her fingers curl around the thin leather strap of her purse as she fights the urge to touch, to drag her hands through his hair and pull him down for a kiss. Her wolf is close to the surface, drinking in the sight of him. He is fiercely handsome, features lean and lithe. 

Bastien cocks his head, hands shoved into his front jeans pockets. His stare is absolutely piercing; it sends a shudder right through her limbs and up her spine. “Lucy. Hi.”

She wets her lips, tipping her head back to look at him. She is not a small girl – tall for her sex, anyway, though she’s no Indigo – but he is tall enough, her face level with his throat. “I’ve come with dancing shoes, as requested.”

He grins, glancing her over in a slow, hot fashion. Her toes curl. _Get a grip_ , she tells herself, willing the visceral sexual response to settle in her veins. 

“You’ve surpassed expectations,” he says, gaze traveling her length once more. “For once, my sister might not be trying to ruin my life.”

“Does she do that often?” she asks. 

He reaches out to take her hand. The skin to skin contact is electric. She swallows hard and falls into step with him, her pulse kicking up. 

“She told one former girlfriend that I ate live kittens,” he says darkly. 

Lucy bursts out laughing, the vision utterly amusing. “If someone fell for that, they weren’t worth the time.”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted Mercy ruining everything,” he mutters as they walk down the street. “She’s a meddler.”

“She loves you,” Lucy counters, liking the feel of her fingers linked into his. All of her interactions with Mercy as Riley’s mate and as a sentinel in her own right have been suffused with a fierce loyalty and affection for those deserving of it, and she likes the redheaded cat very much. 

She thinks she might like the brother, too. 

“She’s a devil, but she’s family,” he sighs, grinning with sharp white teeth. She wets her lips again. In the purple-orange sunset, he is a striking picture, all sharp angles and fierce lines of muscle and bone, but there is weight in his words and in his family. 

“She’s our family, too. We all love her,” she says. 

He slants a glance at her. “One big happy Pack, huh?”

“Better that than all of us going at it like cats and dogs,” she says lightly. 

He barks out a laugh, fingers tightening around hers. “That was terrible.”

“I’ll be funnier after you’ve had a drink or two,” she says dryly. 

“I like you just fine right now,” he says, voice dropping low and full of promise. 

Arousal blooms within her. She feels the rising heat on her skin and blinks up at him, her breath catching in her chest. He looks down at her with hot intent; she thinks she can see the cat lurking behind his eyes, a cat she wants to see in action. 

“I like you too,” she says quietly. 

He smiles slowly, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. He could be a dangerous man, if he decided to be so, she thinks. “Then maybe you did good not holding out for Sage.”

“There’s still dinner and dancing, apparently. I’m withholding my final judgments,” she teases. 

“A particular lady. I like it,” he murmurs as they turn the corner and walk towards Chinatown. 

Lucy grins, her wolf nuzzling happily at the spicy forest scent of him, and asks about his work to fill the comfortable silence. 

*

Dinner is dim sum, something Lucy rarely has. Bastien asks her preferences and makes the decisions, something Lucy doesn’t mind in the least. He has good taste in food, in clothes, in drinks – she sips at her white wine and feels something loosen and uncurl inside of her, this cat making her feel more comfortable and at ease than any other man in recent memory. 

“Do you make your own dim sum?” she asks, poking at a spicy pork dumpling with her chopsticks. 

Bastien reaches over and adjusts her grip on the chopsticks with an easy touch. It is the fifth time he has done so. She’s starting to think he’s only doing it for the skin contact. A blush rises on her cheeks. 

“I do. I make a lot of my own everything,” he says, the red-orange lanterns above them gleaming against his dark hair. She can see threads of gold in the red, falling against the bronzed cream of his throat. She wants to reach over, push her fingers through the thick strands, lick at his pulse. 

“So why finance?”

“A man’s gotta make money somehow,” he says with a shrug. “I’m good at numbers, at investments. It’s a broader way for me to contribute to the health of my Pack.”

She smiles. He is a steady, loyal, fiercely independent cat, this one. Where she could fit into this, she doesn’t know. But she likes brushing up against him, her feet grazing his under the table. 

“Besides, cooking is just… fun. It’s a way to release tension for me,” he says, eyes flickering to the low scoop neckline of her dress. 

“I like that,” she says, taking a bite of dumpling and swallowing it neatly. “Varied interests.”

“You must have some,” he says, hand hovering over his wine glass. 

In the secluded corner of the restaurant, with just lanterns and carts of dim sum weaving between tables, she leans in, her knee brushing his. “Tai Chi,” she says. “It centers me. Also, yoga.”

His gaze gleams. She swallows, thinking of flexibility, of limbs entwined - _shit_. “Not much of a soldier?”

Shrugging, she tucks her hair behind her ear. “It never took. I’m not a submissive, and I can defend myself well enough, but I’m best in a medic role.”

“How long did that take to figure out?” he asks, gaze heavy-lidded. 

She stills, thinking of the darkness just decades past. Her mother, a senior soldier, lost in the dark years. An uncle gone, too. She was only five at the time, but the twenty-five-year-old remembers every moment. “Not too long,” she says softly, unwilling to color the evening with darkness. They are stronger now, centered. 

And, she thinks as she watches him in the hazy orange light, they have allies as strong as blood. 

Her hair loosens, falls from behind her ear. He smiles slightly, and reaches out to tuck it back again. The graze of his fingertips against her cheek and throat sends a shiver down her spine. 

“Riley and Mercy think you’re great. It’s good you found your place sooner rather than later,” he murmurs. 

“It is,” she says with a relaxed smile. “But work isn’t everything. I like to read. Anything that isn’t a medical textbook or journal.”

“Keeping work and your personal life separate?” he teases. 

She sighs. “There’s no such thing when you’re the healer’s assistant. Everyone in my Pack sees me as their nurse first, someone to defend.”

His hand drops under the table to rest on her knee, just brushing bare skin. She shivers at the touch, wanting more. Her wolf arches into the touch, wanting to brush up against his cat flank to flank. It’s a purely instinctive desire, rooted in primal notions; but she likes the sound of his voice, and the way he speaks of his family, of his life. 

“You’re all woman to me, Lucy,” he murmurs, allowing the cat to color his voice. “Anybody who doesn’t appreciate it is crazy.”

She all but swallows her tongue even as she shifts closer into his touch. “I think it’s the natural difficulties of pack ties,” she says softly. “I don’t fault them for it.”

“It doesn’t help you out very much,” he says, his thumb rubbing over the arch of her knee. His touch pushes at the hem of her dress, inching it up. She wants his long lean hands all over her body. 

Her breath comes with difficulty, her skin flushed. She’s sure he can scent her arousal, as much as she tries to corral it. “One of these days, I’ll figure it out.”

His hand tightens on her thigh, a solid grip. “Want some help?”

“It’s not numbers,” she says, voice breathy. “Or anything exciting like your cooking, or so I’ve heard.”

Smirking, he leans in over their plates, his mouth close to hers. “Getting a recipe right sounds exactly like my kind of work,” he says before he closes the distance between their mouths and kisses her, right there in the restaurant. 

His mouth is firm and warm, his lips easy against hers. She shuts her eyes and angles her head, settling into the softness of the moment. Her hand settles against his jaw, touching the clean shaven skin. It feels – lovely. Lovely and hot and it sends shudders right through her, to the marrow of her. 

“Maybe I jumped the gun,” he says, the words soft against her mouth. “But I’ve wanted to do that all night.”

She opens her eyes and smiles, her wolf looking out at the cat in his gaze. “I’m glad you did.”

*

At midnight, after dinner and dancing and his hands on her waist and hip and her fingers sliding through his hair and against his throat, Lucy finds herself pinned up against the side of Bas’s car in the DarkRiver headquarters parking lot, the heavy weight of Bas stretched over her as he mouths at her exposed neck. 

The air is too cold, the night crisp and clear, but Bas gave her his jacket as they left the dance club, and she curled into it, enjoying the heavy layer of his scent over her. 

“I’ll drive you to your car,” he had said when she half-heartedly tried to say goodnight. “Let me?”

She had accepted, and now she’s got his tongue and lips on her bare skin, his hands shaping the curves of her through her dress as she digs her hands into his shoulders and hauls him even closer. Desire thrums through her veins, her wolf caught up in the wild sensation of it, and she breathes in his scent, embraces the rumble of a purr low in his chest. The sound reverberates through her skin and sends a pulse of want between her thighs. 

“You’re so fucking hot, Lucy,” he growls against her collarbones, licking at the hollow of her throat. 

She shuts her eyes and presses her hips against his, little rolling motions that hiccup through her body. “Bas – “ she gasps, tugging on his hair. 

Bas lifts his head, gaze shifting amber with the cat prowling behind his eyes. She wets her lips, watches as he follows the tip of her tongue. 

“C’mere,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pulls him in for a long, wet kiss. Her lips part under his and he licks his tongue against hers, into her mouth, tracing the inside of her lip. His hands stretch over her thighs and hitch one over his hip. She can feel the hard ridge of his erection against the inside of her thigh, hot and heavy through his jeans and her dress. Her fingers sink over the nape of his neck and she moans into his mouth, hard-pressed for breath. 

“Shit,” he mutters, voice a harsh growl. “I don’t – fuck – “

She blinks heavily and tips her head back against his car door, welcoming the icy chill of the air. Chest rising and falling heavily, she strokes her fingers through his silky hair, as he leans over her. 

“I don’t just want sex,” she says, voice low and sweet. 

He meets her gaze, mouth a tight smile. “I don’t either.”

Her wolf stretches out languidly, her limbs heavy with desire. “Take me out again?”

Bas strokes a hand over the thigh hitched on his hip, touching bare smooth skin. “How’s tomorrow?”

She laughs huskily, filled with delight. Her hands cup his face, fingers petting his jaw. He nestles into the touch. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he says, gaze hot and dark. “Let me cook for you.”

Hips rubbing lightly against his, she wets her lips. “All right,” she says softly. 

The smile blooms on his lips. He reaches up to tangle his fingers in the smooth fall of her hair, a possessive hold. She leans into it, letting him pull her even closer into the cradle of his chest as his mouth touches hers. “Wanna neck a little bit more first?”

“You’re a smooth talker, Bastien Smith,” she murmurs, biting at his bottom lip. 

“In my family, you had to be,” he says, kissing her lightly. 

“The Smiths grow them up good,” she teases. 

He tightens his fingers in her hair and angles her mouth to his, kissing her hot and wet and deep. Need slams up against her and she wants to crawl into the backseat of his car, straddle him, and make them both come until they can’t breathe, cold autumn night and public parking lot be damned. She shuts her eyes and kisses him back, throwing every pore of herself into showing him how much she wants him. 

He groans her name, and she grins with her success. 

“I can’t wait for tomorrow,” he murmurs against her mouth, and Lucy has to agree. She sends a silent thank you to Lara and Mercy and everyone else between the two packs who thought this was a good idea, because it _was_. 

Wherever this ends up going, she’s going to enjoy her time with Bastien Smith to the fullest. 

*


End file.
